


Reliquary

by Annie17851



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Mojo, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie17851/pseuds/Annie17851
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has an idea for getting the Mark Of Cain off Dean, but first he needs something he thought might have been lost forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reliquary

**Author's Note:**

> Reliquary: a container for holy relics
> 
> This makes sense to me. Why can' t there be a tiny spark of Castiel's Grace hiding in Dean's soul from when Cas remade him after raising him from Hell? Just me then? Okay.

Reliquary

 

“I might have an idea.”

Sam lifted his head from the large book he had been reading, cautiously hopeful at the angel’s statement. 

“Yea?”

Castiel hesitated a moment, then, “I have been thinking, maybe I could take the Mark from Dean into myself. Grace might burn it out even as it enters me.”

Sam shook his head. “Dean will never let you do that, Cas. It’s probably suicide. You have no power to spare, you’re barely keeping yourself going as it is.”

“Yes, but if I had my own Grace back, if I was fully ‘powered up,’ it might just work.” Cas mused. 

Sam frowned. “Metatron took your Grace.”

Sadness crossed Castiel’s face briefly. “He did. But, Hannah was trying to find out if there was any of it left anywhere. Metatron was trying to make a deal with her, but I told her not to. He told me that some of my Grace is still out there, so he probably knows where it is. Some is as good as all, once I have it back.” 

Sam looked at his friend earnestly. “Metatron is a master manipulator. He’s not one of the good guys. You know this, Cas.”

“I do, but isn't it worth trying? To save Dean?”

“Doesn't matter,” Sam reminded him. “They won’t let us have Metatron again. Not after what Dean did to him when he was down here before.” 

“Hannah will help. I know she will. At this point, I don’t care what happens to him. Or me. All that matters is getting the Mark off Dean.”

Sam knew Castiel’s priority had been Dean since the day the angel raised his brother from Hell, so there was no use arguing. Castiel would just go off on his own and do it anyway.

“Well, if you can get him again, I’m in.” Sam agreed. “But we can’t tell Dean and we can’t hold him here in the bunker. I’ll keep Dean busy this afternoon for a while with research or something. You be careful, Cas.”

“I will.” Cas replied. “I’ll find a place and paint the appropriate sigils to keep him trapped. Metatron will tell me where my Grace is. No matter what.”

 

Castiel located an abandoned barn that suited his purposes and he used the time he spent painting sigils on the floor in his own blood to try to frame his argument. Try to figure out what he could say to Dean to get him to agree to the plan. Dean, whose mindset was always to be the sacrifice for the good of others. Castiel would have to make him see his own worth for once, if this was going to work. 

Ironic, Castiel thought, that he would pick this place. The first time he had ever seen Dean with his vessel’s human eyes was in an abandoned barn. 

 

Hannah was more than helpful; two of the angels from Castiel’s old forces delivered a black-hooded, handcuffed Metatron to the old barn, pushing him none too gently into the circle on the floor across a break in the symbol. Cas repaired the gap immediately. Castiel had not provided a chair; he felt no need to supply any comfort. The two angels retreated to a discreet distance and waited, per Hannah’s instructions. 

Castiel flicked a hand nonchalantly and the warded handcuffs fell open, dropping to the floor. 

Metatron pulled the hood off, not at all surprised to see who had summoned him this way. He looked briefly behind himself for the chair that wasn't there, then turned back to face Castiel confidently. 

“Castiel! How pleasant to see you still alive!”

“No pleasantries, Metatron. We have business to conclude, and it’s concluding today.”

“Your first mistake today, Castiel, is assuming you can get away with this again. Not after the last time, when your rabid dog tried to slice me to ribbons.” 

Castiel raised his chin in defiance. “And your first mistake today is assuming that I care about any of that.”

Metatron quirked an eyebrow at that and Castiel continued.

“I don’t care what happens to me if I send you back in one bloody piece or a thousand. I get what I need today and you get to live. And those two over there?” Cas said, “They are deaf, dumb and blind as far as this barn is concerned.”

Metatron spread his hands innocently.

“Castiel! None of this is necessary. We are brothers. Anything I may have done to you in the past is exactly that. In the past.”

Cas was impatient to have Metatron out of his sight and just wanted to move things along, didn't want to listen to any of Metatron’s sly maneuvering. 

“You told me there is still a piece of my Grace left. Where is it? I want to know now.”

Metatron smiled at him. Actually smiled. 

Castiel stretched out his right hand, fingers spread warningly. “Your position does not warrant a smile, Scribe!” 

Metatron smiled even more at that. “Exactly, Scribe of God! I know so much more than you, Castiel.”

Cas closed his hand slightly, so Metatron could feel the tightening on his throat. “I only want to know one thing!”

The older angel tried to swallow a bit, had just a little difficulty and Cas loosened his grip. He did want Metatron to be able to talk. 

“Well, Castiel, I don’t care what you want! I’ll rejoice when you finally fade away. You've not served Heaven for years! And now you’re threatening the Scribe of God! I will not save you!”

“I am not doing this to save myself. So, before you make a final decision against telling me what I want to know, think who I might be doing his for and realize what I might do to find out.”

Metatron laughed shortly and then shook his head. “Yes, I see now. Dean Winchester! Once again, Castiel, you are losing it over one human. Why do you want your Grace? Wouldn't it be better for you to have moved on before you have to watch him kill his brother? How is that coming along, by the way?”

Castiel closed his fist in anger then, dropping Metatron to his knees in the warded circle, hands pulling frantically at his throat, trying to release invisible fingers. Castiel closed his eyes in frustration and then opened his hand again. 

“Stand up and talk!” he commanded harshly. “Because if you are not going to be any use to me, I will kill you! I will not hesitate, Metatron!”

Holding his throat, gasping for air, Metatron stood uneasily. This was not the Castiel he had manipulated so he could drive all the angels from Heaven. This was a Castiel who was desperate and might really kill him. 

“Alright, Castiel! Just stop.”

“Talk,” Cas demanded, dangerously calm. 

“Not because you’re threatening me, but only because it is getting a little, oh, boring in my cell, I’ll tell you. No strings. I’m really curious to see what Heaven’s most inept angel has up his sleeve now. Truthfully, I used all the Grace I took from you.”

Cas snarled and stretched out his hand again. “You said…”

“Yes, yes, I know what I said!” Metatron hurried to assure Cas. “I said there was some of your Grace left. I never said I had it.”

“Stop playing games, Metatron. I will rip your arms off! You don’t need them to speak!”

“As you wish, Brother,” Metatron replied. “It’s been what – almost seven years now?” he asked, just a bit sarcastically. 

Cas narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “Where are you going with this?”

Metatron was almost smirking now. “Seven years, Castiel. Seven whole years since you raised the Righteous Man from Hell and took a human vessel. Seven years and you haven’t figured it out yet. What a sorry example of an angel you have turned out to be.”

Castiel shook his head. “There is no Grace in this vessel. I have searched. You make no sense.”

“If I didn't know better, I would think you are still a fledgling, Castiel. Not your vessel. After you fought your way out of Hell, how did you remake Dean Winchester?”

Castiel frowned. “I used my Grace, of course.” His blue eyes widened suddenly. “Dean? Some of my Grace is in Dean? That can’t be true. He has the Mark of Cain. He was a demon!” 

“It will only be a tiny spark, Castiel. Not enough in Dean to ward off any of that. But in you, in you it would very quickly develop into full strength. Believe me, that tiny scrap of your Grace is hiding in there. Hiding very well.”

Castiel was ready to fly right back to the bunker, but Metatron stopped him.

“Castiel, I know what you want to do. You might die, if you take the Mark of Cain from Dean. He might die if you have to search too long to find that tiny spark of Grace. I’ll be interested to see what happens.”

Castiel raised a hand to Hannah’s angels. “Take him back,” he told them, handcuffing Metatron once more with a flick of his hand and then using his foot to smudge a break in the sigil. One last warning, however.

“Metatron, if you've lied here today, if I don’t find my Grace in Dean’s soul, you will see me again. It won’t be pleasant.”

 

Dean was on a beer run when Castiel got back to the bunker. He found Sam in the library, as usual, and relayed this new information to him. 

Sam was skeptical. “Do you think he was telling the truth? You know what a douchebag he is.” 

“I can’t be sure, Sam.” Cas replied. “But it does make sense. I did use my Grace to save and remake Dean. And it is true that a small spark would not be enough to ward off the Mark or stop him from becoming a demon. Not hiding in a human. In Dean’s soul, the spark remains tiny. If I were to take it back…”

“Some is as good as all,” Sam finished, remembering what Cas had told him. “Maybe Metatron did tell you the truth. Maybe he does think it will be entertaining for him.” 

“We have to talk to Dean.” Cas decided. 

“Yea, this won’t go over well. He is not going to want you to take the Mark.”

“He would want me to get my own Grace back, wouldn't he?”

“He does. I know he does,” Sam assured the angel. “But Metatron said it might kill him. I've had your soul-searching hand inside me, Cas, and it’s not pleasant.” 

“I apologize, Sam. I would not have done that if it wasn't necessary.”

Sam reached across the table and brushed his hand over Cas’s briefly. “It’s fine, Cas. We all do what we have to do.” 

“We still have to convince Dean.” Cas replied.

“Convince Dean of what?” Dean asked, entering the room, six-pack in one hand and pizza and paper plates resting precariously on the other one. They hadn't heard him come in from the garage and Cas cleared his throat nervously.

“I found out where a piece of my Grace might be,” Cas told him quietly, taking the beer Dean offered him and declining a slice of pizza for the moment. 

“Sausage, Dean, really?” Sam complained, picking pieces of meat off his slice and throwing them onto Dean’s plate. 

“Cas likes sausage,” Dean reminded him.

“Yea, well, he’s not even eating any,” Sam retorted. 

“He will later, right, Cas?” Dean told his brother, taking a big bite of his own slice.

“Now,” Dean went on, after a sip of his beer. “What is it you have to convince me of? Or was this a secret pow-wow?” 

“Cas got some new information today.” Sam started.

“About his Grace? From where?” Dean asked hopefully.

Castiel took a drink of his beer and put the bottle down gently. “Not totally about my Grace. I think it will help a great deal with the Mark, maybe even solve the problem for good.” 

Dean ducked his head down a bit and leaned closer to the angel, trying to catch his eyes. “Cas, I thought Metadick used all your Grace.” 

“Apparently,” Cas went on, still avoiding Dean’s gaze, “He used all the Grace he took from me at the time. He did tell me later that there was some left. But he doesn't have it.” 

“Well, we need to get him back down here!” Dean insisted. “Did you know this? When we had him before? Sam, did you know about this?” 

Sam held up a hand. “Dean, just listen.” 

“We don’t need to get Metatron down here,” Cas informed him. “I have already done that. I did that this afternoon.”

“Alone? Why did you do that? Sam, did you help? Is he still here?” Dean asked darkly. 

“No, Dean, he isn't here,” Sam told him. “He wasn't here, Cas took him somewhere else and he’s locked up in Heaven again.”

Dean took another drink of beer. “I can understand why you’d keep him away from me. But that was a stupid thing to do by yourself, Cas.”

“I was fine, Dean” Castiel reassured the hunter. “Hannah sent two angels along with him. They are loyal to her.”

“So, what lies did he tell you about your Grace, Cas?” Dean asked doubtfully. 

Castiel turned his head then to look at Dean’s face, to gauge his reactions to what he was going to say next.

“Metatron said that when I raised you from Hell and made you whole, a spark of my Grace would have been left inside your soul. Not enough to stop you from taking on the Mark and not enough to keep you from becoming a demon, because you’re human and it’s not your Grace. Because of all – that – it would be hiding.”

“And you believe him?” Dean asked. “You, too, Sam?”

“Dean, Cas is going to die without his Grace.” Sam reminded him quietly.

“Do you think I forgot about that? For even one second?” Dean snapped back. 

He turned back to Castiel. “How does this help you? Is there some way? Some spell that can return it to you? Or is it ruined now, because of what I've done? What I've been.”

Castiel laid a calming hand on Dean’s arm. “I don’t think it can be ruined, Dean. It’s angel Grace. If it didn't affect you when you were a demon, then it‘s buried very deep. And it’s only a spark. But a spark of my Grace in me is a lot different than it is in you. It’s my Grace. It will grow to full power quickly if I can just get it.”

“Then let’s get it. How do we get it?”

“There’s more, Dean,” Sam interrupted.

Dean blew out an impatient breath. “Well, there always is, isn't there? So, what’s the catch?”

Cas sighed. “First of all, it’s buried deep in your soul. It will be hiding, staying away from the Mark of Cain and from when you were a demon. It won’t find me. I have to search your soul for it.”

“Search?” Dean asked. “Like with Sam? And that boy that time?”

Cas nodded solemnly. “Yes,” he replied, seeing Sam wince at the memory out of the corner of his eye. “But, this will be much worse. When I did that to Sam and that boy, I was only looking for a soul. This time, I will be searching through your soul. It will be exceedingly painful and possibly futile. I might kill you.”

Dean frowned. “Well, if I die, I’ll come back as a demon, right, so we should try to avoid that, Cas. Other than that, load me up on whiskey and pain killers, shove a belt in my mouth and let’s do this!”

“That’s not the ‘more,’ Dean” Sam told him. 

“Cas, tell me you did not make a deal with that dick!”

Castiel gave Dean a small smile. “There were no deals. I did threaten to rip his arms off….”

“Awesome!” Dean interrupted, slapping Cas’s shoulder. 

Cas’s smile got a tiny bit wider. “I also threatened to kill him. I think he just wants to see what happens. My main purpose in all this is not to get my Grace back, Dean.”

Dean’s features darkened suspiciously and Sam suddenly turned his avid attention to his beer bottle and pizza. “Are you leaving, Cas? Did Metatron say he’d let you back into Heaven?”

Cas looked puzzled. “What? No! I’m not leaving! Well, not unless you tell me I have to again,” he said quietly. 

“You’re staying. That’s all.” Dean muttered. 

“Anyway,” Cas explained. “My main purpose is to get my Grace back and take the Mark myself. I think my Grace will just burn it out then.” 

Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out and so he snapped it shut again. Then: “Well, that’s not happening! Forget it!”

Sam spoke up then. "Dean, it makes sense! Why not let him try? Worst case, he can’t find the Grace anyway and things stay the same.”

“No, Sam, worst case is he does get his Grace back, and he takes the Mark and we have a fully-powered-up angel with the Mark of Cain running through his veins. And he knows where the Blade is!”

“I've thought about it, "Sam argued.” I can stand by with an angel blade and if the worst happens I’ll take care of it. Sorry, Cas. But, Dean, I think he’s right on about the Grace burning out the Mark if it tries to get into him. We’re running out of options here, Dean! If Cas doesn't get his Grace back soon, he’s going to die! And sooner or later, you’re going to go off the deep end and then what do we do? Kill you and turn you into a demon again? Lock you in a room and set you on fire? You have any better ideas right now?”

“Sam,” Cas interrupted softly. “May I speak to Dean alone?”

“Good luck!” Sam told him, grabbing his book and beer and heading to his room. 

Dean drained his beer and pulled another one out of the six-pack almost angrily. Castiel began to speak, but Dean silenced him with a look.

“One,” Dean started, emphasizing his point with a finger. “This is your home now, Cas. You’re family and I have barely any of that left. Two,” Another finger. “I want you to get your Grace back, but this is still your home when you do. If you want it. Three,” Another finger. “I’m not afraid of pain. I want this thing gone. What I am afraid of is what this frigging Mark might do to an angel, if Grace can’t burn it out. Four.” Yet another digit raised. “If you really want to try this, we will.” 

Dean downed half of the beer and then set the bottle on the table firmly, looking at Cas steadily. 

Castiel held up some fingers of his own. “One, I don’t want to leave. Two, I do want my Grace back, only so that I can be more helpful to you and Sam. Returning to Heaven holds no interest for me. Three, I am not afraid of pain either. And four, I do want to do this. Dean, I believe we can do this. We can do it together. I believe Metatron might have actually been telling the truth about a spark of my Grace left in your soul.”

Dean looked down at the label on his beer. “So, maybe that’s why you told Sam once that we had a ‘more profound bond’? The saint and the sinner?” he asked skeptically. 

“The angel and the hunter,” Castiel corrected him.

“Well then, angel,” Dean decided, finishing the beer and standing determinedly. “Let’s get his crappy show on the road.”

 

Dean looked up at Sam and Cas from his prone position on his bed, bare-chested and more than a little anxious, even after pain pills and some whiskey. 

“You should tie me down.” He grinned nervously. “Bet you never thought you’d hear me say that, huh, Cas?” 

Castiel squinted his blue eyes in momentary confusion and then managed to hide a nervous smile of his own.

“No, Dean. That’s not something I would expect to hear from you. Not in front of Sam, at any rate.” The angel teased.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yea, maybe when this is all over, you two will finally decide to get a room!”

“Watch your mouth, Sam!” Dean admonished. Then, as Sam leaned down to secure Dean’s arms and legs; “Don’t stop him. No matter what’s happening. You just wait and watch him, and if you need to gank either one of us when it looks like it’s over, you do it! You hear me?”

Sam nodded reluctantly, checking the tightness of the belts he had used to restrain his brother, while Cas looked on silently, hesitant now. Images were flickering through his mind. Images of hurting Dean, in an alley, in a crypt. He wasn't sure he could do his after all. He snapped his attention back into the room. Sam was talking to him. 

“Cas, if you’re going to do this, you’re going to be careful! As careful as you can. You promise!”

“I promise,” Cas said, moving to sit on the bed, settling next to Dean’s hip. “This will hurt, Dean. I’m sorry.”

“Apologize later, Cas,” Dean told him. “Let’s just do this.” 

Castiel leaned in closer to Dean and held the hunter’s green eyes for a few seconds, then placed his right hand lightly, fingers splayed out, on the smooth skin of Dean’s stomach. Sam placed a belt between Dean’s lips, laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder reassuringly and then stepped back, holding Cas’s angel blade ready. 

“Deep breath, Dean,” Cas whispered, taking his gaze from Dean’s face and moving it down to the fingers he had spread on warm skin. 

Cas applied light pressure, breaking through Dean’s skin hesitantly. Dean gasped suddenly around the black leather in his mouth, making Sam flinch and Castiel paused for a second, then let his fingers slowly sift into Dean’s body.

“Don’t stop,” Dean mumbled, pretty much unintelligibly, but both his brother and the angel understood. 

Castiel tuned it all out; Dean’s breathy gasps of pain, the feel of the hunters muscles tensing, the sound of teeth digging into leather, the slight sounds of Sam’s anxious movements, the small everyday noises of the bunker. Tuned it all out. Looked into Dean’s eyes one more time and then closed his own. The borrowed Grace inside him was all he needed now. 

Heat. Twisted darkness. Fingers only just in now and the dark roiling in the once-bright soul he had remade almost stopped him. Dimmed his own insides somehow, almost made him jerk back. 

“Calm, Castiel,” his borrowed Grace soothed him. “Just feel.”

Deeper now, and somewhere outside of himself he was aware of a harsh groan of pain. He whispered, “Hold on, Dean, hold on.” 

Castiel had leaned over Dean’s body, needed to be closer and the side of his face was resting against Dean’s chest now. Castiel could feel Dean’s quickening heartbeat on his cheek, could feel it thrumming into the dark spaces the angel was trying to explore. Castiel unconsciously started breathing faster, syncing himself with Dean’s ragged inhales and exhales. 

Castiel was lost in gloom, could feel only small, scattered pockets of the brightness that once was. He reached out to try to touch them and felt the muted scream of pain in Dean’s chest, sensed Sam’s aborted motion to stop him. 

“Hush, Dean,” the angel whispered warmly against skin that was starting to get clammy from fighting pain. 

The bright pockets yielded nothing, and they were almost anguished from the effort of fighting the darkness. That darkness Castiel could feel singing its’ way through Dean's veins, twisting his soul into black emptiness.

Deeper still. An actual scream of pain then. A worried sound from Sam. Both from very far away. Castiel thought about retreat, black pain surrounded him. But wait. Wait. Just there. There was something. Something that shouldn't have been there. Castiel reached out to it. Couldn't get past it. Some kind of barrier. So black it was almost not there. It was like a wall and how was it even there? 

“Almost,” Cas breathed onto Dean’s skin, into his heart and then he poked with his borrowed Grace. Distanced himself from the agony in the hunter’s mind and… there. Not a barrier or a wall. A tiny pocket of ebony and inside, oh, inside, was the tiniest speck of bright. 

It sang out to Castiel joyfully, flew right to him, right into him and Castiel was on fire. He gasped, pulled away from Dean, held out his arm to warn Sam away and then clamped his left hand tightly over Dean’s arm. Right over the Mark of Cain. 

Dean was gasping in relief and had to close his eyes tightly against the brightness surrounding Castiel. Suddenly a blue-white sun was building in Castiel, in the angel’s eyes. The whole room was an explosion of light and abruptly Dean was in pain again. But it was his arm this time, the Mark, on fire and burning its’ way down his arm and bleeding into the angel. Sam was backed up against the wall, arms over his face, still holding the angel blade and acutely aware that it would be useless against whatever was happening. 

There was a sudden supernova of light and heat, then silence. 

Castiel was gone. 

Sam dropped the angel blade, rushing over to the bed. “Dean! Dean!” he called frantically, running his hands over his brother’s dazed form, pulling the restraints away as quickly as he could. Dean seemed a little groggy, but otherwise unharmed.

“’m’fine,” he mumbled, reaching out a hand so Sam could help him sit up. He looked at his arm immediately. His Mark-less arm. Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist.

“He did it!” Sam exclaimed. “He actually did it!”

“Yea, he did something all right,” Dean grumbled, rubbing a hand over the unblemished skin of his stomach, still cringing inwardly at the pain he’d just gone through. “The question is, what?”

“Did you see all that?” Sam asked. “That was amazing!”

“So where is he, then?” Dean replied. “Cas! Castiel!” he shouted Heavenward. 

“Do you think he’s….dead?” Sam wondered. 

Dean shook his head. “I hope not. I also hope we haven’t just unleashed an angelic nuke on the world.”

“He’ll be back,” Sam predicted confidently. “Cas always comes back.” 

Dean stood a little shakily and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. 

“I really hope you’re right, Sam. In the meantime, me and my new arm need a beer.”

Sam followed his brother’s determined steps through the bunker’s halls, heading to the kitchen. 

“We need to find him, Sam!” Dean threw back over his shoulder. “If this was a mistake…..”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Dean! Cas is fine. Or he’ll be fine. He’ll be back.”

Dean grabbed two bottles out of the old refrigerator and handed one to Sam. 

“Cas doesn't have the best track record when it comes to dealing with power. We both know that. If the Mark didn't burn up…… Maybe this was a bad idea.” Dean shook his head gloomily and took a drink. “Don’t get me wrong, Sam, I’m frigging thrilled the thing is off me, but if the Mark survived the Grace….Sam, he knows where the Blade is.”

“The Blade is gone,” they heard, and snapped their attention to the kitchen doorway, where Castiel stood calmly. 

“Cas, thank God!” Sam breathed, while Dean asked “Are you okay, Cas?”

“I’m fine. I heard you call, Dean, but I was busy. I came back as soon as I could. Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Dean brushed off the question. “What the hell happened, Cas? That was your Grace?”

Castiel moved further into the kitchen, and Dean resisted an urge to reach out and make sure he was really there and okay.

“For a minute there, I thought you blew yourself up, Cas.” Dean told him, grabbing another beer and holding it out to the angel. Cas took it, but just held it in his hand. “So, what happened? Where did you go? It worked.”

Dean held his arm out as proof. 

“I know,” Cas replied. “It took me a while to find the Grace. I think your soul was trying to protect it, Dean. I have never heard of such a thing. But when I found it, it exploded right into me, took over my whole being, and when I grabbed your arm to take the Mark, my Grace just siphoned it right out of you. It hurt. It burned, but then it was gone. Burned out. I was so, so full, I had to go, before my true form tried to manifest. The power would have killed you both. I went to get the Blade and I destroyed it. The First Blade is gone.”

“I don’t know what to say, Cas. The Mark and the Blade are gone for good, right?” Dean asked.

“Absolutely,” Cas promised. 

“So, it was worth all the soul-searching, huh?” Sam commented, hiding a smile at his pun. 

Dean snorted. “Yea, next time we search your soul, Sam.”

Castiel sighed. “I do not wish to repeat that experience.” He finally opened his beer and took a drink. 

Dean cleared his throat. “So, Mark of Cain problem all fixed, I’m not a demon anymore, you’re all angel-juiced back up, what are you gonna do now, Cas?”

Castiel frowned. “I’m going to hunt. With you and Sam.”

“Um, I think I hear my phone.” Sam muttered, high-tailing it out of the kitchen. Dean’s angel- Dean’s issue.

Dean examined the label on his bottle closely. “Well, all that angel mojo makes you an awesome hunter, Cas. And you are family. Sam thinks so. Me, too.” He hastened to add.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas replied, trying and failing to catch the hunter’s eye. 

“Don’t the flying monkeys need you up there? Since you’re all angeled up now won’t they command you to come back to Heaven or something?”

“Heaven doesn't need me, Dean. All Heaven has ever done is use me. Earlier today, you said I could stay here. Was that not true?”

Dean raised his face to Cas’s then. “’Course it’s true. But you didn't have your own Grace then. You were fading away. Now, well, I just thought…..”

Castiel faced him squarely. “Sometimes you think too much, Dean. That’s not always a good thing. Let me be honest.”

Dean shifted a bit uncomfortably. “It’s okay, Cas, we’re good. We can heat up that pizza, I’m kinda hungry after all that.” 

“Dean. I have no desire to return to Heaven. My path has led me here. I belong here. With Sam. With you. I have always chosen you, Dean. I still choose you.”

Dean took a deep breath. “Cas, can we just take a minute here? You do realize that you tend to just- take off, right? Sam gets really upset about it.”

“Well, Dean, I promise I won’t ever do that again unless you ask me to. And I will always come back. Always. We don’t want Sam getting upset.”

Dean started heading out of the kitchen to join Sam, wherever he was.

“So, you’ll stay? Hunt with us?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas agreed, smiling at Dean’s back as they walked down the hall. 

“Uh, Cas?” Dean asked quietly, stopping and turning to look at his angel. “Let’s not let Sam know I told you about him getting upset, okay?”

Cas arched an eyebrow. “Your secret is safe with me, Dean.”


End file.
